My handle is bent and my paint is all gone
I wait for the light and the break of the dawn
The cobblestone square is a cold gray design
I stand in the shadow of a thin laundry line
I am the rust in the Roman blue
Waiting for water and something brand new
Tipped on my side by the cafe door
Dripping my silver on the limestone floor
The scent of espresso begins to ignite
The street lamps are folding their pale yellow light
A stray tabby cat rubs his fur on my base
While the city prepares for a different pace
I remember the garden and soil in the wind
Before all my edges were jagged and thinned
Now I am heavy and hollow and old
Holding the dew and the morning-time cold
I am the rust in the Roman blue
Waiting for water and something brand new
Tipped on my side by the cafe door
Dripping my silver on the limestone floor
The waiter arrives with a heavy brass key
He looks at the square but he doesn't see me
A sudden sharp clatter a slip of the heel
The shock of the pavement the ring of the steel
He lifts me with laughter and fills me with gold
A bucket of water for roses to hold
I feel the wet weight as it seeps through the grit
The thirst of the summer is finally hit
I am the rust in the Roman blue
Waiting for water and something brand new
Tipped on my side by the cafe door
Dripping my silver on the limestone floor
Iron and stone.
Silver on the floor.
Just iron and stone.
